The Light Side of the Shadow Wall
by Warrior of Ice
Summary: Dimas de Teran is faced with the impossible task of winning over the girl he loves without ever talking to her face to face. With the help of friends and former foes, will he succeed? U/M with senshi/Shitennou appearances, set in Santa Esperanza 'verse.
1. Wishes for Santa Esperanza

**Title**: The Light Side of the Shadow Wall  
><strong>Description<strong>: Dimas de Teran is faced with the impossible task of winning over the girl he loves without ever talking to her face to face. With the help of his friends and former foes, will he succeed?  
><strong>AN**: Written for Jenbunny, with very best wishes.

This fic is set in the world as "Santa Esperanza" (between years 20 and 30), which was written for Advent Drabblender 2011. I think it's not necessary to read that one beforehand, especially since this fic was started first, but feel free to check it out for more of what happens before/after this one. Several of Seiya's lines are from the anime, I hope (at least that's what Wikipedia tells me) so no credit to me, of course.

**Characters**:

Serafina de Luna – Usagi

Luisa – Luna

Casimiro de Ortega – Kunzite

Dimas de Teran – Mamoru

Magdalena de Saravia – Minako

Belén – Beryl

Joaquin de Vittoria – Jadeite

Zacarías de Santangel – Zoisite

Nicodemo de Villarreal – Nephrite

Maricela de Soria – Makoto

Sergio de Fonseca – Seiya

Damían de Carmona – Diamond

Rosalía de Teran – Rei

Emilia de Palma – Ami

Catalina – Kakyuu

Rubén – Rubeus

Santos – Saphir

Priscila – Petz

Carmen – Kōan

* * *

><p><em>The Light Side of the Shadow Wall<em>

_Part I: Wishes for Santa Esperanza_

She worked quickly but unhurriedly, keeping a firm grip on the strands of flaxen hair that shone like moonbeams in the candlelight. This was the type of work she enjoyed most – it was precise and demanding, yet the result was artful and the beneficiary close to her heart, so all in all it gave her great satisfaction to perform her task. What surprised her was her charge's patience with the tedious procedure.

"Serafina? Have you fallen asleep again?" The girl was not one for early rising, so she half-expected a snore in response.

"No, Luisa," Serafina said promptly. But her nurse's question had startled her out of her reverie, and she shifted her gaze from the hypnotic passage of the first drops of wax, which had started to run over the lips of their hollows and bead slowly down the sides of the ivory tapers. She kept her eyes firmly on her hands and tried not to fidget.

The candles were set beside a heavy, gold-framed mirror, which showed another girl with wide eyes and pale lips trying not to shiver in the chilly predawn air. She didn't want to look until everything was done in case it broke the spell. The lace-covered dress hanging in the corner, the basket of white roses, the pearl bracelets, and Luna's careful arranging of her hair – these were the instruments which would turn her into the incarnation of Santa Esperanza come to earth again.

But there was another magical transformation she hoped would occur, aided by the strength and wisdom flowing from Luisa's nimble fingertips, down through her scalp and into her heart. Maybe then, when Luisa was finished twining the delicate white roses through her hair, she would know what it meant to be a woman and what to say to the men who would come courting her.

A sharp twinge of pain broke through her thoughts, shattering her concentration.

"Ouch! Must you pull so tightly, Luisa?" she asked, trying to twist away from her nursemaid. Unfortunately, given Luisa's firm grip, it only increased the pressure on her scalp.

Luisa had been with the family since Serafina's own mother had been a girl, but after all those years, her hair was still as black as a starless night. Well used to her charge's ways, she ordered, "Stay still, please, Serafina. Really, it's no worse than the prick of a needle, and given the sad state of your needlework, you should be well acquainted with that sensation."

She took the rebuke with no more than a slight pout, for she knew that Luisa's bark was worse than her bite. Sure enough, a moment later, the woman patted her gently on the hand and said, "I'm almost done."

Luisa was fussing with the arrangement of the last few petals and Serafina was just about to raise her eyes to her reflection when the door opened to admit a tall woman with silvering hair.

"Mamá!"

As the mistress of the house approached with her elegant, gliding steps, Luisa completed the white rose coronet and moved back. The expressions on the two women's faces were the same: half-sad, half-proud, and Serafina felt her nervousness return tenfold until her mother's smile brightened, warming the room more effectively than the corner brazier.

"I have something for you, Serafina. It's something my mother gave to me when I was your age." The gentle pressure on her shoulders kept her in her chair, and Serafina looked at herself in the mirror at last, watching her mother place a silver chain hung with a glimmering, faceted crystal ball around her neck.

"Beautiful," Luisa said approvingly, keeping a sharp eye on any potential disruption of her handiwork.

"Thank you," Serafina breathed, her eyes fixed on the sphere which seemed to draw in all the light in the room and reflect it again, doubly bright.

The three women clustered together in front of the mirror, companionably quiet until Serafina's stomach growled.

Luisa murmured, "Thank goodness some things never change," but her tone was nostalgic rather than scolding.

The laugh lines crinkled around the other woman's eyes, and she said, "I think everyone has waited long enough for the morning meal. Is Santa Esperanza ready to descend, Serafina?"

"Yes, Mamá."

They helped her put the dress and bracelets on and then ushered her out of the room to awaken the household, per tradition.

And so it was that her one backwards glance was of a girl all in white, with pink cheeks and a hopeful smile.

* * *

><p>"I am trying, but I fail to see why you think this should be so difficult for you, my friend."<p>

He put his head on his arms with a dejected sigh. "You don't understand, Casmiro. You are strong and handsome and noble, and you won Magdalena with the ease of – with the ease of – well, with the ease of encountering a pickpocket in the city square, if you'll forgive the analogy."

Casmiro thought this was a bit much, particularly since Malena had referred to him as "that hateful man" a nontrivial number of times before they were married, and while she had since softened it to "impossible man," the epithet was applied to him at least once a week. He had also never been pickpocketed in the square; neither, to the best of his knowledge, had Dimas. He raised an ironic eyebrow in response.

"Women do not like me," Dimas continued woefully. "They have never liked me. Do you remember my cousin Belén? She was a true witch, that one."

"Yes. Quite vividly."

None of them had wanted to go over to the de Teran residence when Belén was around, and Dimas had practically moved into one of the de Ortegas' spare rooms. But since she had moved away some fifteen years now, Casimiro thought it was long past time for her influence to have faded. He rather thought the problem with Belén had been too much affection rather than too little, and she had moved away before she learned to express her feelings by charming rather than tormenting Dimas. Nico was of the same opinion, but Dimas persisted in denying it with the same stubborn blindness he exhibited towards the many admiring glances of half the girls in the province.

"...and when I am with them, I have no idea what to say. It is hopeless."

Casimiro sometimes wished his friend would do a little less talking around him. He also suspected that the air of mystery and terseness actually increased Dimas's attractiveness among the young women.

He wondered if he should tell Dimas the most difficult part came after marriage, not before. But that was likely to send him into a black despair it would be difficult to lift him out of, and they were due at Nicodemo's house in half an hour. He had promised Magdalena they wouldn't be late this time. Not that it had been his fault any of the last five times, but she seemed to think he had some influence over his friends. All because that fool Joaquin had confided to her that he, Casimiro, could be "scary" in a temper. What man – or woman, for that matter – was not scary in a temper?

Casmiro looked back at Dimas and reconsidered.

"Dimas. Given your self-professed difficulty in conversing with young women, don't you think it would be a better idea to consider another type of courting? One that requires, say, more dancing or strolling in gardens and less talking?" Dimas's interest in gardening, which they teased him mercilessly about, was likely to come in handy there.

"No, I can't. You don't understand. The shadow wall is the only choice." He sighed at the skeptical look on Casimiro's face, but he obediently put on his cloak and followed his friend to their destination. "The Marqués de Luna is very conservative, and he follows all the traditional ways. And after that business with the Oscura Luna, he is very protective of his daughter. He has dictated that if a man wishes to court his daughter, he must do it by way of the shadow wall."

"And what is so special about Serafina de Luna?"

The worry faded from Dimas's face, temporarily replaced by rapture. "Ten years ago, I saw her, and she was the most beauteous thing to walk this earth."

"Ten years is a long time. Perhaps she is ugly now."

Startled, Dimas turned, then thumped the newcomer on the shoulder. Casimiro, of course, was never taken by surprise. "Joaquin! Of course she isn't. How can you say such a thing?" But he spoke without heat, for of course Joaquin de Vittoria said anything that came to his mind, the more outrageous, the better.

Joaquin shrugged, nodding good-naturedly at the two men as he fell into step with them. "All I can say is, you better be sure what you're getting into, my friend."

Casimiro grunted, slightly dismayed to be in agreement with this miscreant.

Joaquin snapped his fingers. "I know! You should consult the Vizconde de Santangel."

"What – de Santangel? Why?" Dimas asked, dismayed.

The blond-haired man explained, "Because he is her cousin, the Marquesa's nephew. He can tell you what she is like – for example, whether she is an ogre or not, and if not, how best to approach her. What she likes, what she does not like."

Dimas chose to overlook the ogre comment because he was quite taken with the suggestion. It seemed like the answer to all his prayers. And yet. "I can't. I don't like the man."

This was news to them both, since Dimas never disliked anyone, but particularly to Casimiro. "What do you have against Zacarías de Santangel, Dimas?"

He scowled. "It is a matter of honor."

By this point, they had arrived at the house and were hailed enthusiastically by their host. "Come in, come in!" Nicodemo de Villarreal flung his arms wide, as if to embrace them all. "Maricela has been cooking all morning,, and I'm starving. Wine?"

They accepted, and when they were all seated with glasses in hand, Joaquin asked, "Nico, do you know why Dimas does not get along with Zacarías de Santangel?"

While Dimas spluttered, the brunet looked up calming from where he was decanting a fresh bottle of wine and said matter-of-factly, "Because he beat him in a knife-throwing contest."

"And gloated in a most ungentlemanly manner. You are leaving the important part of the story out, Nico," he complained.

"Of course. But it's just his way. Joaquin gloats too, you know," Nico pointed out.

"It's not the same. He is – he is just too smug about it. It is insufferable."

Casimiro set his glass down. "I will agree that Zacarías is not a modest man, but he is quite clever, in his way. If you are serious about courting Serafina de Luna, you may wish to have his support. If you like, I will introduce you. And I will make sure he does not mention the knife-throwing." More than once, he added silently.

Dimas considered, wondering if he should stick to his principles. But the image of the young girl who had handed him a rose was more than enough to outweigh his reluctance. "Very well. Thank you, Casimiro."

In the meantime, Joaquin had been filling Nico in on their conversation, and the latter looked over with a half-amused, half-exasperated grin. "Out of any of us, of course it would be you, Dimas, to be half in love with a girl you have only seen once in your lifetime, ten years ago."

Dreamily, Dimas said, "I can only imagine that she has since grown up to be as graceful as a butterfly."

* * *

><p>She tripped down the last three steps, saved from falling on her face and crushing the fragile white rosebuds only by her father's strong grip. As it was, she had a feeling she had nearly ripped out the hem of her new white shift. Luisa would not be pleased.<p>

"Santa Esperanza!" he greeted her in his booming voice, his eyes laughing while he kept his voice properly respectful and serious. "Dare we believe that you have come to grace this household with your blessed presence? And may we hope that you bring glad tidings as we lay the old year to rest and hail the new?"

Serafina beamed up at him, grateful that he continued as if nothing had happened. "Yes, all those and more, for this is a household in which there is true love and respect between all its members, and no shortage of joy and kindness."

She looked at all her friends and family gathered around, taking in the glowing expressions of pride and joy on their faces, and felt the happiness rise within her, brighter and warmer than liquid gold.

Santa Esperanza was a beautiful figure, one who brought joy wherever she went. At Christmastime, she was depicted with the customary armfuls of oranges, for abundance, and almond cookies, for blessings. Not only did she grant the most heartfelt wishes of the deserving, but she also reawakened the earth, breathing warmth and life back into the soil. Her song called back the birds, and her voice melted the ice from the rivers.

"If you would come forward now, one by one, to tell me your wishes, I will do my very best to see that those who are deserving will see them granted."

In seconds, she was surrounded by eager children, and she knelt down so they could whisper their secrets into her ear. As she heard each wish, she was careful to keep them all straight in her head so she could tell their parents or fulfill them herself. For a girl who had difficulty remembering dates and notable historical figures, she found _this_ task remarkably easy.

Serafina circulated among her relatives, hearing wishes mostly from the young children, but also from some of her aunts, uncles, and older cousins. There were the usual requests for knives and ribbons, a good harvest, a new horse or a new baby, peace in the household, a grown-up pair of boots, the chance to win the hand of a young lady or catch a young man's eye, and the pink silk dress in the dressmaker's window that Serafina herself had admired.

She was careful to nod solemnly, even when Margarita wished the cats would get along with the dogs so both of her favorites could sleep at the foot of her bed at night. Among other things, Eliseo wished Luisa wouldn't pull on his earlobes _quite_ so hard when she caught him in the middle of a misdeed. Felipe wanted, just once, to make Reina de Coria in the year below him laugh. She had to hold back her tears when Marcelo asked for Mamá to get well soon, _please_, and gave him an extra handful of almond cookies with her kiss.

She smiled when she spotted a lanky figure leaning against the mantelpiece. Grabbing a handful of cookies and peeled orange slices from a nearby tray, she rushed over to him before he could disappear.

"Good morning, Zacarías."

The corners of his mouth turned up in his lazy grin as he bowed elaborately. "Good morning, Santa Esperanza. Your loveliness is breathtaking today. To what do I owe this honor?"

"Why, I'm here to ask what your wish is this Christmas, of course."

Zacarías paused, his green eyes dark as he looked down at her. He thought the Santa Esperanza custom one of the more charming traditions, but it was somewhat embarrassing to tell your younger cousin your heart's desire. Then again, he had gained more reverence for Santa Esperanza after his years fighting against the Oscura Luna, and he thought Santa Esperanza would be delighted to have Serafina as her emissary.

"Zacarías?" she prompted.

Slowly, he answered, "There is someone who I believe may be far from here, away from friends and family. I hope I will find her soon, but if I do not… I wish that she finds happiness and peace."

"Emilia?" Serafina guessed, thinking of her missing friend. Zacarías had introduced them, and she, too, missed the kind young woman with her calm practicality and gentle smile.

He nodded, and she hugged him tightly.

"Santa Esperanza! Please hear my wish next!" Estela pleaded, her big brown eyes wide with urgency.

With another sympathetic smile for him, Serafina straightened her skirts and started to walk away.

Zacarías stopped her with a tap on the shoulder. "One more thing, Santa Esperanza." If not for the pain lingering in his eyes, his light voice and slight smile would have convinced her his spirits were entirely recovered.

"Yes?"

"My cousin Serafina would have a wish to ask of you, if she could be here. Would you mind if I ask it in her stead?"

She blinked at him in surprise, but said, "Of course. What is it that she would wish for?"

"True love."


	2. Advice

_The Light Side of the Shadow Wall_

_Part II: Advice  
><em>

For better or for worse, de Santangel was home when they called.

When they were showed into a sunlit courtyard tiled in bright blues and greens, Dimas found that de Santangel appeared entirely unchanged from their previous meeting, three years ago. Same flamboyant robes, bold smirk, glittering green eyes, and waves of golden hair that managed to be arrogant in their curl.

To his surprise, he was courteous enough as he rose to greet them. "Welcome to my home, de Teran. Casimiro."

"Zacarías."

"Thank you. I admire your home and am glad of the chance to see it," Dimas said as they sat down, gratefully receiving a frosted glass of water with lime. It was warm for a midwinter day, and the light yet erratic spray from the fountain was refreshing even from this distance.

Casimiro had told him it was not the family villa but newly built, from Zacarías's own design. From what they had seen on their way to the courtyard, it was highly unconventional but had a certain undeniable grace to its sleek, curving walls and labyrinthine passages.

His host smiled, drumming his fingers lightly on the tabletop. "I am glad to hear it. So, let us get down to things. Casimiro tells me you are interested in the hand of my cousin Serafina."

Dimas looked at him, aghast. This was _not_ how things were done. They were supposed to converse about other topics – the weather, the horse races, potential mutual acquaintances, perhaps even politics, if they were feeling daring. But he had not planned to broach the topic of courting Serafina de Luna until, at the earliest, his third visit. It seemed that Zacarías had a different timeline and standard of formality in mind.

"Casimiro said you had a subtle mind."

"I can be subtle about things that matter to me. You don't matter to me unless you marry my cousin," Zacarías said baldly.

"Zacarías."

"What?"

"You know what." Casimiro was watching the fountain idly, but the iron in his voice was unmistakable. "He isn't used to you."

Their host appeared to sulk for a few minutes. "Well, he will have to get used to me if he wants to marry into the family." He turned to Dimas with a toothy smile. "I am her favorite cousin, did you know? Even if she does say that I plague her worse than gnats in summertime."

That statement gave him some hope he and his intended bride would have at least one thing in common.

He hadn't realized he had expressed this hope out loud until Zacarías laughed. "Perhaps you are more interesting than I thought." He looked Dimas over appraisingly. "Tell me something, de Teran. You have a sister, don't you? Why don't you ask her for courting advice?"

Dimas let out a startled laugh. "Ask Rosalía how to converse with young women? Rosalía doesn't like conversing with them herself. And she dislikes being courted even more so. But how did you know about Rosalía?"

He smiled smugly. "I have done my research, of course."

His hand drifted to his shirt, covering a spot where it was likely a locket in which fashionable young couples secreted portraits or locks of hair from their sweethearts rested. Casimiro did not care for fashion but Magdalena did, so he wore one as well. Dimas noted the gesture, a surprisingly unconscious one for a man who so carefully orchestrated his presentation.

"I am afraid I have other affairs to handle now, but come to me next week. I will tell you about your competition."

"Is that, well, fair?" he was compelled to ask as he and Casimiro rose. Then again, perhaps Zacarías would also be informing them of his suit.

"On the dark side of the shadow wall, de Teran, you will need all the help you can get."

* * *

><p>Serafina had Zacarías's plight, as well as his wish for her, in mind when she nervously approached her side of the paper-thin wall.<p>

Courting by the shadow wall was a custom that went back to the olden times and one that a significant minority of families, including the de Lunas and the de Santangels, still followed. Girls of marriageable age from these families were not allowed to interact with unmarried men, except for their relatives, but they were still allowed some limited choice in who they married from the set of suitors which had been deemed suitable.

The courting was done by way of the shadow wall, a barrier that was erected on the girl's family's property so they could properly monitor the proceedings. It was not a substantial obstruction – a child could put her fist through it. But no one ever breached the wall (sneaking around it, yes, usually involving a conveniently placed tree), not if they wanted to be considered marriageable or marriage material. Its purpose was to prevent the courting pair from getting a glimpse of one another while allowing their voices to carry through easily.

It was called the shadow wall because meetings took place in the early morning or late afternoon. The girl was always on the "light side," which was the east side in the mornings and the west side at night. Her suitor was on the "shadow side," and this appellation had become the preferred term in general parlance. Zacarías had once said it was to emphasize the mystery and challenge associated with courting. Luisa's tart rejoinder had been that men liked to complain about the difficulties they faced in the courting process.

Courting by the shadow wall gave the proposed couple a limited number of opportunities to impress each other. It encouraged them not to judge by appearance alone, although of course there were other, indirect ways of eliciting this information. The downside was that compatibility was heavily determined by conversation alone, and there was a rampant tendency to make grandiose claims. The young men sometimes tried their luck at leaving tokens or small notes, hoping they would accurately predict that the next time a meeting occurred, the girl would be on that side of the wall to receive the trinket rather than a competitor or overly strict chaperone.

Serafina cast a glance over her shoulder at Luisa, who was sewing patiently in a cushioned chair. Luisa was acting as chaperone and sat some distance away, near enough to call for help (or knowing Luisa, intervene) should any improper behavior seem incipient but out of earshot to give them some modicum of privacy. She had positioned herself squarely in the shade and had already chided Serafina for not putting her sunshade up.

Her breath caught when she heard the soft thud of footsteps heralding the arrival of the first suitor.

"Señorita de Luna, good evening. I am Damían de Carmona."

Her father had told her the de Carmonas were newly arrived from the neighboring province, in the gem trade, and quite rich. Damían was the heir, the only son.

She cleared her suddenly dry throat before answering. "Good evening, señor."

"I am honored to have the privilege of courting you." His voice was very smooth and self-assured, caressing in a way that was both admiring and completely unfamiliar to her. "Your beauty and kind heart are legendary."

"Thank you. It's very kind of you to say so."

The rest of their conversation was much of the same, with him paying her many compliments and regaling her with charming anecdotes and light jokes, all entirely appropriate and quite amusing. He asked about her favorite color, what flowers she liked, what she thought the most delicious dessert from Santa Esperanza's feast was. Serafina tried her best to ask him questions about himself, but somehow she found that she had come away from their meeting knowing very little more about him.

Zacarías had warned her that the men would likely tell her impossible stories about their strength, their unrivaled good looks, their skills as horsemen, and so on. Perhaps Damían was simply modest or as nervous as she was.

* * *

><p>"So you are to go last."<p>

Even though he was seated beneath a shaded canopy, Dimas closed his eyes. He wasn't sure what he was doing back at de Santangel's house, but the why had something to do with Casimiro rousting him out of bed at an entirely uncivilized hour. Nico, who had joined them with a disgustingly cheerful grin, had clapped him on the shoulder and advised, "Just pretend he is Joaquin on a bad day."

So far, it seemed to be working fairly well. But if Zacarías didn't cease with the irritating questions, Dimas feared that he might not be able to address him with his customary courtesy.

"Yes. Which you knew before I did, if I may point out."

Zacarías smiled. He too, seemed to be in a good mood, although Casimiro had warned them that he was not a morning person. Yet he had been awake and fully dressed when they arrived, seemingly having risen before the sun today. "I am merely impressing on you that there is a need for you to distinguish yourself."

"Thank you."

He bowed from the waist, ignoring the sarcasm. "And what is your strategy?"

"Pardon?"

"You know, your courting strategy. How you plan to woo my cousin."

When Dimas looked at him helplessly, Zacarías looked over at Casimiro and rolled his eyes dramatically. "This is what you bring me to work with? He's doomed."

"You're not helping, Zacarías." The deep indentations at the edges off Casimiro's mouth showed how amused he was. He and Nico were playing chess and eavesdropping assiduously. While Casimiro had the ability to do so effectively, Nico's game was suffering quite a bit.

"And when did I agree to help?" he asked. Zacarías turned back to his project. "So? Was that enough time to think? You'll have to think on your feet when you're talking to Serafina, you know. She's sweet, not stupid."

"You haven't told me anything about her yet!"

He sighed heavily, plucking an orange from the tray and starting to peel it meticulously. "I can't put the words in your mouth, de Teran. Then I would be courting her myself, and while some may have a taste for that, I certainly don't," he said with an elaborate shudder.

Dimas scowled at him. "I think I felt more confident before talking to you."

"Pity. And I have not even remarked on your poor aim, yet."

Zacarías paused, the first bite halfway to his mouth, when Dimas buried his knife hilt deep into the dirt in front of the fountain, not two paces from Zacarías's left boot.

Casimiro and Nico looked over, all pretense of being involved in their game gone. Dimas looked up at his host, shaken. "I apologize. Profusely. I don't know what came over me–"

The other man cut him off with a sharp gesture. He meticulously dried his fingers on a towel, then reached down to retrieve the knife. "Hm. Very nice. Beautiful craftsmanship. I assume you have been practicing since our last encounter and that was not merely a lucky throw?"

To his surprise, the man appeared to be excited rather than offended. Dimas nodded warily. He had pushed himself to excel after his ignominious defeat, and with the rise of the Oscura Luna, knife-throwing was a handy skill to know.

"Excellent! I do enjoy a challenge." Zacarías grinned and got to his feet. "Favor a match?"

Dimas hesitated, glancing back at Casimiro, who had turned his attention back to the board with a rueful smile.

"Come on," Zacarías coaxed, "I'll tell you more about my cousin."

Dimas was in. "All right."

He looked like a child who had been told Santa Esperanza's feast had come early. "Wonderful! Let's begin. But don't nick the fountain, if you please." He leveled a serious look at Dimas. "That is one of my sweetheart's favorite things about this house, and I will be quite unhappy if it is damaged."

* * *

><p>This time, the hour was near sunset, and Serafina found herself on the opposite side of the wall. It was closer to the exterior gate to the villa and contained a charming terrace and an abundance of hibiscus trees. Unfortunately, her younger brother Samuel was acting as her chaperone today, and he was running around the garden with his deerskin ball, refusing to stay out of earshot and making teasing faces at her all the while. She hoped he would settle down when the next suitor arrived.<p>

From what her father had told her, he came from a wealthy family, also quite conservative, which was only to be expected. He was the oldest son of three.

A few minutes past the hour, a pleasant-sounding voice of a somewhat higher timbre than Damían's came through the wall. "Good morning, Señorita de Luna. I am gratified to have the honor of calling on you. My name is Sergio de Fonseca."

"Good morning, señor. I am pleased to meet you."

"You have a lovely voice. It is as pure as moonlight and clearer than starlight."

Samuel paused nearby, using the flat of his foot to kick the ball into his arms, and pretended to gag. She stuck her tongue out at him and motioned him away.

A week ago, Serafina might have fidgeted nervously, struck silent by shyness, but Damían's flood of compliments had rendered her somewhat less susceptible. "Thank you. Yours is quite pleasant to listen to as well. Do you like to sing?"

After a brief shuffling while she watched his profile change as he moved from a standing to a sitting position, he answered with new animation in his voice. "Very much so. My brothers and I, we often sing together, and we all play instruments. Do you play any instruments, señorita?"

"Unfortunately, I don't. I love music, but my fingers were not well suited to the stringed instruments my tutor introduced to me." She wondered if she was revealing a few too many negative things about herself. But then again, it was best to be honest, wasn't it?

They spent some time discussing the most popular songs, which ones they liked or didn't like, and then moved on to other topics. He professed to like ball games, horses, and traveling, and Serafina liked only one out of the three.

It felt like one of those ritualized dances, where the men and women formed two lines and took turns. Each waited politely and admiringly for the other to complete the figure before performing the next set. She preferred the circle dances, where they all danced together.

Overall, though, the talk was pleasant, and Sergio had a restful quality to him that she liked. He put her more at ease than Damían did, and his charm seemed a bit less polished. She liked that he took time with his answers. What she really wanted to ask was, "What do you want to do with your life? Are you a good person? Will you respect me? How will you raise your sons and daughters?"

These were the questions she wanted to ask, but she held her tongue, worried that this was not the way things were supposed to be done.

* * *

><p>The next time he called he brought her flowers, which he tossed lightly over the wall. Luisa pretended not to notice, which made Serafina smile as she sniffed them.<p>

Damían was still a puzzle to her. She did like that often, he asked her opinion about things. Even if she didn't always know the answer, it flattered her to be consulted. Mostly it was about simple, everyday things, like whether she preferred one season to another and why, what kind of poetry she liked, whether she preferred a house laid out like the villa she currently lived in or one of a different style.

More than once, he asked her about what type of jewels she liked. "Diamonds as big as a baby's fist from the old Diablo Mines, rubies darker than blood, or pearls dredged from the sea? Or perhaps something simpler, like crystal?"

Serafina fingered the glittering sphere that hung from her neck. It seemed churlish to tell him she already had a crystal necklace and didn't need any more. "Any of those would be perfectly splendid. Maybe sapphires, they seem to come in so many lovely shades of blue."

He seemed restless that day; she could hear his footsteps as he paced on the other side of the wall. Every sound seemed so much louder now that she didn't have sight to go on.

"Damían, what would you say are your best qualities?" she asked.

There was a pause before the footfalls resumed. "My best qualities? I suppose it is best to present myself as a humble man and only tell you about a few of them. One might say that I am very determined. When I decide to go down a particular path, I will follow it to its end wherever it may lead me, without looking back, no matter what obstacles are thrown in my way. I was told my by father that a strong man has resolve; one that wavers in his purpose is weak."

Serafina nodded, thinking it made sense. It wasn't good to be like old Donato, who her father told her no one wanted to do business with because he went back and forth on his deals.

"I am also very devoted to my family. Family means everything to me."

"That sounds very admirable."

"It does, doesn't it?" He laughed softly, and she wondered what the joke was.

"I, too, am very close to my family. After I marry, I would hope to be able to see them often."

He said in his winning way, "Well, if you were to marry me, I would do my best to see that that would be the case."

Before she could answer, Damían said abruptly, "Tell me, Serafina, what are your best attributes? Would you say that you are a merciful person, for example?"

"Merciful?" She wasn't sure there were many instances in her life when she had been called upon to be merciful, except perhaps the occasions when she had forgiven Zacarías and Samuel for their pranks, but she had a feeling that was not what Damían had in mind.

"Yes. For example, if someone had hurt your family, would you find it in your heart to be able to forgive them? Or would you seek revenge?"

Serafina tried to imagine someone hurting her parents, Samuel, Luisa, Zacarías. The thought made her dizzy. "I would never forgive them."

"Ah."

"But nor would I seek revenge."

"No?"

"No," she said firmly. "I think someone who would intentionally do such a thing would have more than enough darkness in his heart."

Just then, Luisa shook the little bell she kept beside her meaningfully, and Damían said, "It seems we must part for now. Until next time, Serafina."

She listened to the rasp of his boot heels against the dry stone and wondered why something in that engaging voice seemed so empty to her.

* * *

><p>"You are wasting my time."<p>

Gone was the idle young man with the fancy clothes who liked good food and good wine. His gaze, fixed on the seashell and sapphires pattern circling the fountain rim, radiated desperation.

"What exactly is it that I'm keeping you from?" Dimas asked.

Zacarías looked away, and for a moment, it seemed like he wouldn't answer. Finally, he said softly, "I'm looking for a woman who may be in danger. Her name is Emilia."

"You can't be speaking of Emilia de Palma?"

His grip on Dimas's arm was sudden and painful. "You know her?"

"Yes. She went to school with my sister Rosalía, and we became friends. How do you know her?"

"I love her," he said simply.

Dimas regarded him curiously. "And she returns your affection?"

"Of course." For a moment, Zacarías's expression turned from one of tragedy to disbelief. "What, I am stupid enough not to know when a woman loves me?"

Emilia _loved_ him? Well, there was no accounting for taste.

The dry laugh alerted him that once again, he had spoken without thinking. "Yes, well, I think she might agree with you there, Dimas."

"I haven't seen her for a good many months, Zacarías. But the last time Rosalía received a letter from her, it came from Mariposa."

"Mariposa?" Zacarías stood still, barely seeming to breathe. "I hadn't heard of anything connecting her to that place."

He seemed on the verge of leaving immediately, so Dimas quickly stepped into his path. "Zacarías. Emilia is a friend of mine. If she is in danger, and you need help… please contact me. I'll let you know if I hear anything else about her whereabouts."

He stared at him for a minute, letting that scorching green gaze burn into him. Finally, he nodded. "I would appreciate that, Dimas. I will let you know."

When he still didn't move, Zacarías groaned. "Will you be on your way already, Dimas? You have everything you need to succeed."

"One last question. Why did you help me, Zacarías?"

"Because I don't like the others, of course – I'm picky about who I'm going to be related to."

Casimiro didn't finish opening his mouth before Zacarías grumbled, "Fine, fine. Also because I think you will make her happy. _If_ she likes you, which she probably will. You would be well-suited, and you are a step above the average idiot. You are also kinder than me, if not as handsome."

Fortunately, Casimiro was out of earshot by this point. In the process of saddling his horse, Casimiro called, "Wait for me at the second well on the north road. I have to tell Magdalena where I'm going."

"Fine, but if you do that, we'll be taking her with us," Zacarías called back warningly.

Casimiro shrugged, as if he had known all along this would be a possibility. "Good luck, Dimas!" he said to his friend before riding out the gate.

"Yes, I also wish you the best of luck." Zacarías fixed Dimas with a dangerous look. "Just don't ever tell her she is clumsy, all right? Serafina is sensitive about that."

* * *

><p>"Did he say something to distress you?"<p>

"Distress is a bit strong. Unsettled, maybe."

"How?" Luisa's amber eyes were sharp.

Serafina shrugged, picking at her crooked stitches. She was not fond of sewing to begin with, and working by candlelight did not improve things. "He makes me think about matters I am not used to thinking about."

The stiffness in the other woman's posture eased. "I see. Well, as I've often told you in your lessons, Serafina, thinking is good for you. We must constantly keep open minds and exercise our mental faculties, otherwise our senses will become dulled and we will not be able to appreciate the full richness of life. Perhaps it is a good thing that Señor de Carmona makes you think."

She rolled her eyes, making sure Luisa could not see.

"So what do you think of your suitors, Serafina? Do they seem like men you want to marry?"

Serafina sighed, abandoning her embroidery hoop entirely. "Oh, I don't know, Luisa. How can I tell? Sometimes it seems so difficult to ask about the important things."

Luisa set down her mending and closed her fingers around her charge's. "You have to find your way, Serafina. Don't be afraid to ask the questions you need to. You want to be a partner in your marriage, like your mother is, not an observer whose wishes are neither consulted nor respected."

She nodded. "I'll try, Luisa. But I think it will be difficult to choose between them, when the time comes. They seem nice, but I don't know either of them very well."

"There is another, Serafina, and you may care for him more than the rest. Don't close your heart off yet."


	3. The Shadow Side and the Light Side

_The Light Side of the Shadow Wall_

_Part III: The Shadow Side and the Light Side_

* * *

><p>"Good day, señorita de Luna. Good morning, señorita. Hello, señorita, what a beautiful morning, isn't it?"<p>

"Yes, very beautiful." Serafina, who had been unable to signal her presence earlier, tried to muffle her giggles.

An aghast silence emanated from the other side of the wall. They hadn't even been properly introduced yet, and already she was laughing at him.

"I apologize, Señor de Teran. I didn't mean to startle you – I tried to speak up earlier, but you didn't hear me."

"My fault entirely, Señorita de Luna."

"Do call me Serafina," she said warmly, now used to the more familiar address from the preceding suitors. "And may I call you Dimas?"

"Certainly." He took a deep breath. He was accustomed to being an honest man, and Zacarías had said his cousin would appreciate honesty.

"I think by now you may be tired of flowery compliments from a stranger. I think I would, if it were me. Given that we don't know each other very well yet, I hope you do not mind if I wait until we are better acquainted. When two people really care for one another, I think there is no shortage of things they can find to like about each other." It was something he had learned from observing Casimiro and Magdalena, and Nicodemo and Maricela.

Serafina folded her hands in her lap, tilting her head towards the wall attentively. His footsteps, when he had arrived, seemed careful but unwavering, firm not overconfident. "That sounds very sensible to me. I don't mind at all."

"I also hope you feel comfortable asking me whatever you would like to know. I will not take offense," Dimas assured her.

Serafina smiled. "Well, then, I will make sure to ask you my boldest questions to see if you are true to your word."

"Ask away, señorita."

She thought it prudent to begin with a somewhat more standard question, so she asked about his hobbies, expecting to hear some variant on gambling or horseracing. Instead, he told her about his rose garden. When she listened to him talk about the flowers he so diligently cultivated, she thought this was a man whose touch the earth must surely welcome.

Serafina had never been very interested in the gardening aspect of flowers, but listening to him was not boring. The animated passion in his voice was clear, and he often paused to ask her what shade of roses she liked and whether she had seen a certain variety.

"There are these little cream-colored roses, no larger than a thumbnail, and they are the hardiest climbers… Have you ever seen the _princesa_ roses? No? They are whiter than new milk, and their petals are softer than velvet, so they have a full guard of thorns to protect them."

They talked of things besides roses, of course, and Dimas was very considerate. He often asked her if she was getting too warm or thirsty. She found something very attractive about the earnestness of this quiet, soft-spoken man.

The conversation felt like they were picking their way across a riverbed; each of them were trying to watch their step, but the water was warm and pleasant, and occasionally the glitter of sunlight refracting off the surface of the river was dazzling.

* * *

><p>One day, Sergio seemed distracted, withdrawn, but she was unsure whether it was merely the continued strain of trying to find things to talk about with a faceless stranger.<p>

"Is anything on your mind, Sergio?" Serafina asked, watching the spotted lizards skitter across the tiles.

"I apologize. I didn't mean to be inattentative."

"I don't mind, but if something is troubling you and there is anything I can do to help, I would like to know."

"You have a kind heart, Serafina." He paused, and she could hear the scuff of his boot against a stray rock. Finally, he said, "I am thinking of my childhood friend, Catalina. When we were very young, we used to play that she was a princess and I was her knight. I would slay all the dragons – they were just spotted lizards, of course – and I swore I would always protect her."

She tilted her head, watching the clouds dance across the calm skies and wondering how she should feel. "What happened to her?"

"She went missing, seven years ago to the day. Her family has always suspected that the Oscura Luna had something to do with her disappearance."

"I'm very sorry to hear that," Serafina said sincerely, "I hope she will be found again."

He sighed heavily. "So do I. And I am sorry to be so morbid on such a beautiful day. It was some years ago, yet I have always felt like I failed her, somehow."

"So many people have gone missing or worse at the hands of the Oscura Luna, Sergio. I am sure you did your very best. And now when you think about her, I am sure Santa Esperanza carries your wishes to her."

"Thank you, Serafina." His words were few, but heartfelt.

She hesitated, then asked, "Will you tell me what she looks like, and her name? One of my cousins is still involved with the efforts to break the last, lingering hold of the Oscura Luna. Sometimes people do turn up, now and again. I could ask him to keep an eye out for her."

"I would be very grateful. She is from the de la Fuente family, and she is petite – perhaps coming up to the average man's shoulder. Her hair is all the shades of the fire, red and gold like leaping embers, and her eyes are amber like honey."

"I see," she said quietly. "I will tell him."

There was a long pause, during which each of them were lost in their thoughts.

"Serafina?"

"Yes, Sergio?"

"My brothers and I and Catalina, we were all childhood playmates together, and we all cared for her very deeply. She was easy to love and her heart was kind and pure, like yours, Serafina. For many years, they searched with me, but recently, it seems like they have given up hope. Some days, we convince each other to go on, but other times, I wonder if we will ever find her…"

She took a slow breath, letting the scent of jasmine and orange fill her with tranquility. "To lose hope is to lose everything, Sergio. Do you remember once, I asked you what your good qualities were?"

She could hear the smile return to his voice. "Yes. I said, 'I am a nice person. Usually girls are happy when they see me.' It's still true, of course."

Serafina laughed. "I don't doubt it. But I think you have another, even more admirable trait, Sergio. Above all, you are loyal. In times like these, we need loyalty to remind us of the riches of the past and to measure the brightness of the future."

* * *

><p>It was strange. After he told her about Catalina, Serafina felt closer to Sergio, as if they had taken the first steps on the path to friendship without even realizing it. She looked forward to his visits because he made her laugh.<p>

One day, Luisa remarked, "You seem to get along well together, you and Señor de Fonseca."

"Yes. Sometimes it's like talking to Zacarías, only Sergio doesn't tease me quite as much – more like talking to Alejandro, then. Never tell Zacarías I said that!"

She never quite gained the same sense of equilibrium and ease around Damían, who was dark and intriguing and remote, like bitter chocolate that melts at the back of the tongue. He was starting to get impatient, often urging her to accept his suit.

On the other hand, Serafina began to look forward to her meetings with Dimas with an eagerness that surprised her. When she heard of something amusing, she made a note to tell him of it, and when something was bothering her, she found that it soothed her to tell him about it. He was more sympathetic than Zacarías and not as irritatingly sensible as Luisa, and she was always surprised that the hours had passed so quickly when the time came for them to part.

The things he told her made her days sparkle with color, for he seemed to be a person from whom good intentions flowed as freely as wine during the summer fetes. He was industrious, as far as she could tell – he spent long hours with his father, learning how to govern the lands that would one day be his, and he often kept late hours so he could indulge in his favorite pastimes. From what Serafina could tell, those appeared to be cultivating the most beautiful roses she had ever heard of and eating at Maricela de Soria's table with his friends all around him.

* * *

><p>Dimas arrived home one afternoon to find Joaquin on his doorstep. "Ah, Joaquin! You must be here to inquire after my progress."<p>

"What – oh, yes, of course," his friend said, looking unusually flushed.

"I hope you haven't been waiting too long."

"No, no, I just got here." He seemed to be looking around for something, and Dimas noticed that he seemed to be unusually well dressed. Joaquin had even polished his boots to a mirror-bright finish, and they were reflecting the sun's rays most unmercifully.

"Did you have business this morning?" he asked, unlocking the door and ushering his friend in before him.

"Business? No, why do you ask?"

Dimas grinned and gestured at his clothing. "Before today, I did not think you owned an unwrinkled shirt."

Instead of giving him the expected shove on the shoulder, Joaquin reddened. "Oh, well, you know. I was tired of Magdalena badgering me all the time, so I thought I had better clean myself up a bit."

Dimas raised his eyebrows. "Well, I think you did quite a good job of it. You look spruced up enough to go courting."

"No, no! Courting? Me? Perish the thought!" Joaquin laughed weakly.

"Yes, really, Dimas, what were you thinking? What girl would have _him_?" a coolly amused voice came from the doorway.

Dimas looked to see his sister Rosalía, wearing one of her prettiest dresses and a derisive smile. "Rosalía! That's not very nice," he admonished.

She rolled her eyes, which were a magnificent shade of purple that were much admired – at least by those suitors she had yet to frighten away with her sharp tongue. "My apologies, señor Joaquin."

"Accepted, señorita Rosalía," he said. His gaze was challenging as he added, "And may I say that you are looking particularly lovely today?"

Dimas looked between his friend and his sister in confusion. "What is going on today? I have never heard you address each other as such before. And why is everyone dressed so nicely today? Are you planning to go out later, Rosalía?"

"What? No, of course not. I just put this on in case any of the girls were planning on calling. They are getting so competitive nowadays," she replied with a toss of her shining hair.

Joaquin sighed, knowing perfectly well that she meant, 'Don't think I got dressed up for you, Joaquin de Vittoria.'

"Well, anyway, Dimas, tell me about how things are going with the fair Serafina. She sounds like a sensible girl," he said.

Dimas beamed, completely oblivious to his sister's ire. "Yes, very sensible. And do you know, talking to her is so calming. Sometimes, it feels like we are the only two people in the world, and I could spend the rest of my life listening to her voice."

Rosalía huffed in disgust. "Oh, Dimas, don't be taken in so easily. Many of these girls can sound like the sweetest thing alive, and once you are married, you will see their true faces."

"Yes, whereas you prefer to let men know exactly what they are getting into. Very admirable." Joaquin bowed to her from the waist down.

He was rewarded with her most poisonous glare. Turning to Dimas, she said, "When you and your fool of a friend are finished talking, please come find me. I've changed my mind about going out."

Without a second glance at Joaquin, she flounced out.

Dimas groaned, foreseeing an afternoon of shopping ahead. "I cannot believe I once asked Santa Esperanza for a sister."

Unperturbed by their dismissal, Joaquin laughed. "You're no match for her, Dimas."

"No man is a match for her," Dimas grumbled. "I despair of ever finding her a husband."

"You should let her choose."

"What?"

"You should let her choose," Joaquin repeated.

Dimas frowned. "Well, of course I would never do anything without her consent, but you would understand if you had a sister, Joaquin. I'm responsible for her. I want her to be happy. Sometimes I wonder if she will choose someone just to spite me."

"You should trust her judgment. Rosalía has very good judgment – when she's not angry, anyway. In fact, I would say she's a little less naïve about people than you are, Dimas."

He threw his hands up in the air. "First my sister, now you. Does no one trust me to look after myself?"

Joaquin smiled. "Of course we do. It's just that sometimes, you always want to see the best in people. What you need is a girl with a pure heart and clear eyes."

"I think that describes Serafina perfectly."

"Then, my friend, I think you will be very happy," Joaquin predicted, toasting him with his water glass. He promptly choked – it seemed that on her way out, Rosalía had managed to lace his glass with chili dust.

* * *

><p>Serafina stood by the wall, feeling anticipation more delicious than almond cookies and headier than mead rush through her. How could it be that she felt so strongly about someone whom she had never seen?<p>

And yet, she felt that in some ways, she had come to know him even better than all but her dearest friends and relatives. For she knew the cadence of his footsteps and the rhythm of his speech as well as she knew the tolling of the bells that marked the passing hours of the days. She could predict, from the slight inhale of breath, when his soft laughter would ensue, and that this was his equivalent of Zacarías's hearty guffaws. She listened for all these clues to him and valued them more highly than the necklaces in her jewel box.

"Good day, Serafina."

"Good day, Dimas."

When she could tell that he was settled, she asked, "Dimas, do you feel that one can truly, properly get to know another person without ever seeing their face?"

"Yes. I would like to think that is the case because that is how I feel." She could see his shadow leaning back, lacing his fingers behind his neck. "Do you know, my friends all thought I was crazy at first. I knew that courting by the shadow wall would be very different. But I also thought…well…that it might be romantic," he said somewhat sheepishly.

"Romantic?" She felt the flush rise slowly to her cheeks.

"Yes. After all, it allows us to express ourselves in a very pure form."

"Through speech, you mean?"

"Well, yes, but not only that. When I hear your voice, unadorned by anything except the sounds of nature, it is very beautiful. But that is not the only memory I carry away with me. I can also hear the swish of your skirts when you rise, the delicacy of your breath, the quick, light movements of your fingers when you make daisy chains. I can see your silhouette on the wall, and when you tilt your head just so, I think that you are curious, and if it were tilted the other way, that you would be concerned.

"I always hope you are sitting this way, leaning forward slightly with your knees folded beneath you and your ear close to the wall."

"Why?"

"Because it means you are smiling."

Serafina put her fingers to her lips and discovered that it was, in fact, true.

"Well, how do you know that I am not always smiling when we are talking?"

He replied, "Because I think sometimes, like me, you are feeling too deeply to smile. I sit here with my eyes closed, listening to the sound of your breaths so close to mine and thinking that this must be the purest expression of love."

She was quiet for a time, and he was content to let her think. All the things he said this day, and many of things from other days, she tucked away in her memory as greedily as a thief did priceless gems. Only these were offered to her freely, and if she accepted him, they would be hers as long as they loved one another. Every day, it felt like they were moving closer to that time.

Finally, Serafina said, "But perhaps we only notice these things because we cannot see each other."

"It is certainly possible," Dimas acknowledged, "but I think, if we marry, I will still listen for them, and treasure the knowledge that when we first loved, it was for neither appearance nor convenience, but because we had experienced the essence of companionship together."

"Dimas?" she said, a little breathlessly.

"Yes, Serafina?"

"I feel the same way."

* * *

><p>"Serafina, I need an answer from you. Today."<p>

"All right," she said somewhat distractedly, trying to shade her eyes against the brilliant sun. The house was completely empty, but for her and Samuel, whose turn it was to chaperone her. Early in the morning, the women had gone to Violeta de Santangel's to help with the birth of her third child, and the rest of the men had been called away to a neighboring farm to help put out a fire. She hoped it didn't spread to the rest of the buildings. Fires were always dangerous at this time of year when the land was so dry.

"So?"

"What was the question?"

He swore. "Serafina, we are running out of time. You know how I feel about you. Nothing would make me happier at this moment than if you were to accept me. So please, will you marry me?"

"Damían… I like you. Really, I do. But I can't give you an answer yet." She had just about decided she wanted to marry Dimas, but both common sense and tradition dictated that she tell her father and Dimas first.

"You must. Serafina, please. I need to know."

She wiped her forehead, growing tired of this conversation they must have had a dozen times over already. "Very well, then. My answer is no. I'm sorry, Damían."

"I, too, Serafina. I'm sorry to do this."

"Do what?" She glanced around nervously, looking for Samuel. Of course he hadn't been with her since Damían first arrived; he was probably hanging out the front window, looking for a sign of the men's return and chafing at having to stay here with her.

"Be quiet and get behind that big pot on your left," he ordered.

"But–"

"If you value your life, you will do as I say and don't say another word," he whispered.

Serafina gathered her skirts in her hand and crouched behind the planter, wondering what could be happening. Damían had been growing more and more serious with each visit, but he had never said anything like this to her before. Now that they were quiet, she could hear the sound of a rider approaching.

"Damían! Do you have the wench?"

"What are you doing here, Rubén? This is my affair. I will handle it."

"The Wiseman has no more patience for your dawdling ways. He sent me to bring you and the girl back…or just the girl."

"You're lying. He trusts me to do this," Damían said confidently.

A sneering laugh rang through the air, and Serafina fought the urge to cover her ears at the ugly sound. "Really? It seems to me like he figured out that the de Salazar brothers are just as useless as the rest of the family."

Serafina felt her blood run cold. Along with the mysterious Wiseman, the de Salazers were the ringleaders of the Oscura Luna. Her former suitor, the man who was supposed to be Damían de Carmona, was her family's mortal enemy.

"Santos is dead."

"What?"

For the first time, she heard true emotion in his voice.

"Your brother's dead," Rubén repeated. "They caught Priscila setting the fires, and he wouldn't leave her behind. Wiseman killed him to keep him from revealing our location."

In Damían's silence lurked the double shades of belief and betrayal.

"So, where is this girl of yours?" Rubén asked, as cheerfully as he had spoken of murder. "Right behind this wall, listening to our every word?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Damían said. "She went inside the house to get some water."

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's go inside and get her."

"No."

"What do you mean, no?"

"She's not here anymore. I told her the truth. Sent her and everyone else in the house to the de Santangels' place. You'll never get to her there; it's like a fortress."

Rubén's vicious curses turned the air blue. "You traitor."

"You're the traitor! Santos was my brother, but he was also your cousin."

"He deserved what was coming to him, the little coward. Everyone always thought the de Salazars were so special, but they ran the Oscura Luna into the ground. We'll do better without you."

Damían laughed harshly. "I'd like to see you try."

Serafina glanced desperately towards the house, hoping Samuel wouldn't come running out in his usual rambunctious way. She needed to warn him of the danger, and they both needed to get away from here. But could she count on them not hearing her footsteps?

She turned back, unable to keep her eyes from watching the shadow play being enacted on the wall. After a blurred scuffle, Damían appeared to be leaning over the other figure, two knives in each hand.

"You always were sloppy. And slow." He got up, sheathing the extra knives he had taken off Rubén, and walked towards his horse. "Get out of here–"

He didn't get further than that before Rubén flung himself at him.

"And you always turned your back too quickly."

Rubén gave the fallen figure a hard kick, then headed for the horses. As she heard the approach of yet another horse, Serafina curled herself into an even smaller ball, feeling soundless tears run down her cheeks.

"Rubén! You killed Damían?" a new, female voice asked.

"I had to, Carmen. He betrayed us. He claims he sent the girl to the de Santangels. I'm sure they've taken it with them, but search the house anyway. Meet me back at the river in an hour's time," he commanded.

"And where are you going?"

"To make sure he was telling me the truth before I report back to Wiseman. He will be furious enough as it is; better not give him more reason to take it out on us."

With that, Rubén slung himself into the saddle and rode away, and Serafina heard Carmen's footsteps disappearing around to the front of the house. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she would find, and ripped through the delicate courting wall.

A tall man with hair as pale as moonlight lay nearby, his eyes closed and his face white. The knife protruding from his chest told her there was no saving him.

"Damían…"

He opened his eyes with a grimace. "You're still here? You should go. Carmen…always listens to Rubén."

"I will. But you – I'm so sorry."

"Don't be." He smiled faintly. "I was going to give you to them, remember?"

He had been watching her avidly, drinking in the features that until now had been hidden from him. His faltering gaze stopped, and he laughed painfully, disbelievingly. "You wear the Cristal around your neck? A priceless artifact like that?"

"What? You mean my mother's necklace?" She wrapped her hand around it protectively.

"Yes, the Cristal. It's your family's oldest heirloom, and it has…powers. The power to keep you safe…or the power to destroy the world. Keep it hidden, Serafina." His voice died to a whisper as he said her name, but as she knelt beside him to say the last rites, she thought she heard him mumble one more word. "Santos."

The minute she was done, she rose, pale but dry-eyed. No matter what monster Carmen was, she had to save her brother. The sound of yet another person approaching made her flinch, and she ran to conceal herself behind the planter again.

As she peered around it, she saw a man with coal-black hair enter the yard. When he saw Damían and the ruined remains of the shadow wall, his eyes widened, and he ran forward in dismay. "Serafina? What happened here? Serafina!"

Before he could shout her name again, she stood up. "Shh!"

He stared at her with river-blue eyes. "Are you Serafina de Luna?"

She nodded firmly. "Dimas de Teran?"

He smiled briefly, seeing her say his name for the first time. "Yes. We were to meet today, if I recall correctly. What happened here?"

Her lips trembled, but she clenched her fists tightly at her sides. "He was a member of the Oscura Luna, in disguise. One of the de Salazar brothers. But he was killed by another one of the Oscura Luna, and now there's another one in the house, a woman. My brother is in there. I need to rescue him."

Dimas nodded, doing his best to assimilate this information. "Are there any others of your family inside? No? Good. Can you ride?" When she nodded, he said, "Take my horse, and ride for the nearest safe place you know of. Send help. I will find your brother."

"No, I'm staying with you."

"It's not safe."

She looked back at him levelly. "He's my brother."

He sighed. "Already, I know better than to argue with you," he said dryly. "Well, stay behind me, all right?"

Serafina did as she was told.

Dimas glanced back at her as they headed into the cool darkness of the house. "Don't worry, Serafina. We will find him," he said quietly.

She nodded once, grateful for the reassurance and the calm promise in his voice.

They set off, peering into all the rooms along the way until they heard the sound of a struggle. Serafina held back a cry when she saw Samuel, who had a black eye and a long cut down his arm. He was thrashing furiously in his captor's grip.

"Stay still, you pest," she ordered, trying to bind his wrists.

Dimas motioned at her to stay put, then circled around, planning to come up on Carmen from behind. He had his knives, of course, but he preferred not to kill women. Particularly with Samuel in such close range.

Guessing his plan, Serafina tried to think of a distraction that would keep Carmen from noticing him. When the woman raised her hand to deal him another hard slap, she ran forward and cried, "Stop!"

Carmen looked up. "So your sister is here, you little liar."

"Serafina, no!"

Carmen jerked him up and held him against her. "One step closer, and he dies."

Both Serafina and Dimas froze in place. She said, "Please don't kill him. It's the Cristal you want, isn't it? I have it. I'll give it to you. Only let him go."

Carmen's eyes widened when she saw the glittering orb hanging around Serafina's neck. "Very well. Take it off, and throw it to me. Slowly. Then I'll release your brother."

She did as she was told, figuring Dimas would take the most opportune moment, when all of Carmen's attention was focused on her, to disarm her. But when she unhooked the clasp and held out her hand to catch the crystal and the coiled chain, a blinding white light filled the room the moment her fingers touched the crystal.

When the light cleared, she was in Samuel's fierce embrace, and Dimas had Carmen tied up with her own restraints.

* * *

><p>Sergio didn't need to ask if it was someone else. The courting by the shadow wall was concluded; the bans and a wedding date announced.<p>

"I wish we had known each other sooner, Serafina. I will never forget you."

Serafina smiled at him, pleased they could finally talk face to face. Perhaps if they had met a year ago, she would have said he and Dimas somewhat resembled each other. But now, she knew their voices were nothing alike, their footsteps were entirely different, and his half-cocky, half-wistful smile was nothing like Dimas's.

"I'm honored, Sergio. I hope we will stay friends." She set her glass down with a cheerful clink. "And now I have some news for you."

"Better news, I hope," he said, smiling crookedly.

"Yes, very good news. My cousin Zacarías is in Mariposa right now. You remember, I asked him to see to keep an eye out for your Catalina. He talked to someone who saw her quite recently, within the past month."

He left shortly after that, a spring in his step and a jubilant smile on his face. Serafina suspected that he and his brothers would be on their way to Mariposa soon. She wondered if she should have warned Zacarías, who did not like interference, but decided that Emilia, who had finally been found, would keep him in line.

She closed her eyes and settled back against the cushions contentedly, smiling when she heard the sound of a familiar step on the flagstones.

"Hello, Dimas."

"I will never be able to surprise you, will I?" They laughed at the thought, and she exclaimed over the bouquet of red roses he had brought her. When he settled onto the seat beside her, she leaned her head against his shoulder and he took her hand in his.

"Now, we can't have that. Just because you saved me doesn't mean I'll allow you to take such liberties with my sister," Samuel teased as he bounded into the room.

"I believe _I_ was the one who saved you," Serafina said heatedly, "and I can take care of myself!"

Her brother grinned at her and said, "Dimas, come on, I want to show you my new horse!"

Serafina rolled her eyes as Dimas allowed himself to be tugged out of his seat. "I'll come back soon," he promised.

"I can't wait until we're married."

She didn't need to look to see the answering smile on his face, but she did so anyway.

_Fin._


End file.
